


Miracle Aligner

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lucifer knew Michael. Who the hell didn’t know anyone in a boarding school miles away from anywhere you’d want to call home? He knew Michael was well-liked, he knew Michael was good-looking, he knew he was good at biology and bad at maths and he knew that somehow, by some god-given miracle, he needed to make Michael head-over-heels for him. Somehow.





	1. The List

( _Often the humble kind, but he can’t deny_

_He was born to blow your mind_

_Or something along those lines_

_Tonight._

-Miracle Aligner, The Last Shadow Puppets _._ )

 

Two months.

Two god-damn months he’d spent in Michael’s crappy little circle of friends, standing there with them during breaks, lunches, weekends. Two months of cracking jokes and laughing at them, hoping that Michael would join in on the conversations. But no, for the most part, the boy kept his oblivious head stuck in a book. The few times he had looked up to join in, Lucifer’s heart had stammered, he’d came close to blushing (and maybe, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had), and he hadn’t been able to say anything witty.

Two month of this. Of boring back-and-forths. Of waiting for something ( _anything)_ to keep him going- a stray brush of fingers, of maybe feeling Michael’s eyes lingering on him. But no. Nothing. Maybe he’d expected too much from the boy, who was so clearly brought up in an ‘eat your greens and don’t question your sexuality’ household it was painful to watch.

He was pretty sure that Michael was the only one in their ‘friendship group’ that didn’t give a shit about where he was when he was late for lunch, or stuck in a detention, or just not there. Sure, he’d managed to charm his way into their willing hearts with a few well-placed smiles, a little helping with a homework here and there- basically waving and calling to Michael. _Notice me! I have good qualities!_

There had been times he’d been days he’d been tempted to leave his attempts at getting Michael to like him back. Leave Michael altogether. Go back to the friends who would probably be quite pissed off at him if he just returned like he’d never left- not that that would stop him.

But then he’d be standing at the end of the canteen line, holding his food container with one hand and putting the peach-flavored drink into his blazer pocket with his other. His eyes would go to the door, where he could walk out of, past the soccer-playing boys who flopped into their fourth-period chairs with sweat in their hair and testosterone practically flowing from their pores ( _this is an all boys school,_ Lucifer used to think. _Who the hell are you trying to impress?!_ Oh, how innocent he was back then. He’d miss those times, but the game of love was much more exciting than the game of internalised heteronormativity), over to the group people were probably starting to refer to as _his_ group. He could walk over his old table in the canteen, where his old friends sat. He’d left them with no explanation, and they were too stubborn to ask for one. Whoever it was that said it was just girls who were petty in their friendships, they were wrong. In Lucifer’s experience, boys were just as bad.

Each time he chose the door. Sometimes he’d feel eyes on his back as he did so.

Michael didn’t care about any of that. Lucifer watched him half-angrily for two months, as winter melted away into the open arms of spring as it brought the trees and flowers into a hug, giving the world color and life once more. The tree they all sat under turned a bright, dizzy green, and Michael lay under it. Sometimes he’d do work. Sometimes he’d read. Some days he’d just sleep.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you,” Balthazar had told him after the carefully worded question- ‘ _Michael doesn’t seem to like me much, does he?’_ Subtle enough and put lightly enough to be forgotten. “That’s just Michael. He likes to conserve his energy.”

After Lucifer had given him a weak smile in return, Balthazar had nudged Lucifer, giving him a smile Lucifer recognised all too well- the carefully crafted smile of someone concealing a crush.

“Come on,” Balthazar said playfully- and he recognised the tone, too. It was the one he used in his imaginary conversations with Michael. “Who couldn’t like you?”

Lucifer had given another weak smile at that, looking out of the window and not bothering to even pretend that he was interested in physics in the slightest. Physics didn’t have dark hair he could run his hands through, lips he could skim his mouth over and draw a whimper from, a mind he could meld with his own. He needed Michael to get it- to get _him._ They’d go well together. It wasn’t just the chemistry he knew they’d have if Michael would sit up for once and let him be his charming self. They weren’t two souls who happened to end up at the same school for filthy-rich and bored parents who wanted to ship their kids off (the kids _they’d_ wanted in the first place, as he was fond of reminding his father) and go on a tour of the world together. They wouldn’t fit with each other- they wouldn’t be one of those boring ‘they complete each other!’ couples. _He’s messy, she’s tidy! He’s introverted, she’s extraverted!_ That wouldn’t be them. They’d be _one._ It was an insult to any creator to not be together.

It was just a matter of making Michael see that, really.

 

So, he made a list. It felt quite un-Lucifer of him. And he hid the list in a pretty crap hiding place- his bedside table drawer. It wasn’t as if many people would be coming into his bedroom (yet). The list was pretty vague, anyway. If someone did ask, he could probably think of a lie.

 

  *  Attention.



( _Grab it. Make him see you. Be unapologetic in this- get him to see you,_ see _you, and only tick this off the list when you’re sure that he’ll think about it when you leave_.)

 

  *  Impress.



( _How, Lucifer wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure what Michael would be impressed by, really. But it was an important part. Could be difficult, but everything would fall into place after that.)_

 

  * Get closer.



 

  _(Inside-jokes type of close. Some might think it time to make- too much time for two seniors to spend on becoming close friends before graduation, but it was possible. Lucifer would make it possible. Friends, yes, but with that undertone, always with that undertone- the laughs that came to easily, the words that went unspoken, the needless touches, the lingering looks. Only when Michael began to give them back, and Lucifer was sure that he had seen Lucifer give them a few times, could he move on.)_

 

  *  Jealousy. 



( _A stupid idea, surely? What with the close friendship and all? No, not at all. Friendship was all well and good- treasured forever, all that crap. But jealousy would be the catalyst. He just had to be careful that it didn’t blow down the careful house of cards he was creating.)_

  *  Closer.



 ( _Closer, closer. Close enough that the others notice. Close enough that Balthazar lets go of his stupid daydream. Close enough that he could suggest going somewhere else at lunchtime and Michael would agree. Close enough that he wouldn’t think of disagreeing.)_

 

  * Drive him mad.



 

 ( _The same lingering touches, all of that, but Michael wouldn’t know whether it was all in his head or whether Lucifer wanted him in the same way. Lucifer wasn’t sure how this one would work, exactly, but it would. It had to.)_

 

  *  Result.



  _(This one didn’t need an explanation.)_

_  
_

Lucifer read over the list a few times. Ten words. Ten words that were meant to reassure him, meant to make him think that _yes, this is possible, Michael really could be yours._ He had to be- Lucifer needed him to be.

He folded the paper in half, looking at his watch. Half eight in the evening on a Sunday night. Tame, tame as hell. It would be quite embarrassing if someone was to knock on his door for whatever reason.

He pulled his phone out from under his pillow. Checked his alarm was definitely switched on. Cleared the little icon by the missed calls section by clicking on it briefly. He meandered, in other words.

He opened his photos app, scrolling through his camera roll until he came to the photo he was looking for. His thumb hovered over it before clicking on it.

Castiel’s birthday. A windy but dry Thursday- and everyone had managed to remember to bring a present, or a card, or both. Quite a feat in a group of twelve. Lucifer had offered to take a photo to commemorate the occasion, selflessly standing up and snapping the picture, offering to send it to each of them. An excuse to get Michael’s number and a picture of him on his phone, basically. He zoomed in on Michael’s face now, eyes looking right into the camera, leaning back on his hands, mouth turned up in a lazy grin. Lucifer’s heart stuttered. He stared at him a while longer before shutting his phone off and putting it back under his pillow.

 Still. The sooner he got to sleep, the sooner it would be morning, and the sooner it would be break, and the sooner he’d see Michael again.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 


	2. Attention

Lucifer’s hands twitched nervously, taking the lid on and off the pen, twisting it around his hands nervously. The notebook page in front of him was worryingly bare, showing nothing but a date and title written in a black-inked scrawl. He felt lucky he was sat near the back, his paper out of the sight range of his milky-eyed teacher.

Said milky-eyed teacher was stood at the front, holding a beaker of some chemical Lucifer hadn’t bothered listen to him explain. It had been clear at the start of the lesson- now, after Dr Lynch had added some other chemicals from beakers (or, rather, had gotten one of the boys at the front to add them, seeing as his hands were too gnarled and shaky), the substance was a deep black. Lucifer had thought of how similar a color it was to Michael’s hair; and off his mind went, picturing Michael the way he knew him best- laying beneath the tree. It was ten minutes until the first break- just ten. He could manage that. In his mind’s eye, Michael sat up, looking straight at him. He opened his mouth-

“Mister Milton?”

Lucifer sat up straighter, watching the heads in the class swivel towards him. He swallowed, his collar feeling uncomfortably tight.

“Yes, sir?” he said faintly.

“Can you tell me what I just said?”

Lucifer opened his mouth to reply. Words failed him, and he looked to the row in front, waiting for the mouthing of the answer- the blessed solidarity that could only be found in a classroom.

They gave him nothing but an empty stare.

“No, sir. I can’t.”

“Can you tell me anything I’ve said in the past ten minutes? Other than the exact dimensions of your pen, of course.”

The boy next to him sniggered softly. Lucifer shot him a glare, and the boy- probably remembering they handled acids around each other in practical lessons- quickly shut up.

“I can’t, sorry. Sir.”

“Stand up, boy.”

After a moment of hesitation, he rose. Slowly.

Milky-eyed Dr Lynch stood silently for a few seconds, doing nothing but watching him. Then he turned around, setting the beaker on the front desk loudly and picking a whiteboard pen. He carried on with the lesson, Lucifer seemingly forgotten. Lucifer sat back down quietly.

“Sir,” one of the boys near the front said loudly. Lucifer recognised him to be one of the boys he used to eat lunch with before he moved to Michael’s group. He’d been nothing but a nuisance back then, hanging around on the edge of the group and hoping they’d invite him in willingly. They hadn’t. Maybe a space had opened up with Lucifer’s leaving. “Sir, did you mean for him to sit down?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. The boy met his look, and turned back to the front, looking unafraid. Mr Lynch turned back around, sending a frown towards Lucifer.

“No, Mister MacLeod,” said Dr Lynch. “I didn’t.”

All heads in the classroom swung to him again. No one else was moving. Lucifer stood up again, unwillingly.

Satisfied, Dr Lynch turned back around. The tops of Lucifer’s ears began to heat up, a hot flush of embarrassment sweeping through him.

 _Three minutes,_ he reminded himself, staring at the clock above the board. He touched the knot of his tie, tempted to loosen it. Instead, he brushed his fingers over the school logo embroidered into the tie; the small black bird on a silver lake. Silver Lake Private School for boys. What a name. He concentrated on that instead of the eyes that kept on flickering his way, and his breathing, which was becoming more ragged by the second.

The bell rang, the harsh sound piercing his ears. He didn’t mind, though- he was too relieved. He picked up his bookbag with oddly unshaking hands, packing away quickly.

“A word, Mister Milton.”

Lucifer looked up to the front as he swung his satchel onto his shoulder, wishing he was deaf. At least then he’d have an excuse to just walk out. He wasn’t deaf though, so he had to walk to the front, dragging his feet as he went. MacLeod was packing up slowly, probably hoping he’d get to hear Lucifer being torn a new one. To Lucifer’s dismay, Dr Lynch didn’t wait until MacLeod had left before he began.

“You’re an insolent young man, Mister Milton,” Dr Lynch said after a pregnant pause, and he began to wipe at the whiteboard. Lucifer adjusted the strap of his bag nervously, refusing to give MacLeod the satisfaction of eye contact. He glanced up to the clock, watching the second-hand tick away at the precious twenty minutes he had. “You’re an insolent young man, and insolent young men don’t go far in this world.”

“That explains why you’re teaching chemistry to a high school class, then,” Lucifer said before he could stop himself. MacLeod practically gasped with delight.

Dr Lynch watched him, looking half-amused. Lucifer knew that it wasn’t because Lucifer reminded him of when he was a ‘young rascal’ himself, or whatever it was old men gave as an excuse for liking pricks. He was probably amused at how easy Lucifer was making this for him.

“That’s a detention, Mister Milton,” Dr Lynch said, and then continued with cleaning the whiteboard. “This lunchtime. Get your lunch and come straight here.”

“But sir-”

“What?” said Dr Lynch, pausing his broad sweeps across the frustratingly unbalanced chemical equations on the board. “Do you want to make it three lunchtimes instead? And Mister MacLeod, stop your dawdling. Out.”

MacLeod just smirked, before finally shouldering his bag and traipsing out of the classroom.

“Of course I don’t, sir-”

“Could have fooled me.” Dr Lynch said. “Lunchtime. If you’re more than five minutes late, I’m going to assume you’re taking me for a fool, Mister Milton. Do you understand me?”

Lucifer gave a sullen nod. Dr Lynch straightened as well as a man of his age could before nodding to him.

“Good. I’ll see you then. Now get out.”

Lucifer did just that without another word, his strides towards the exit long and powerful. When he saw MacLeod’s dark-haired head in front of him, he sped up, acknowledging that he had made a decision without truly knowing what it was. The little idiot had his head buried in his phone, too engrossed in whatever he was doing to notice him. He grabbed his shoulder, turning him angrily. MacLeod just smirked, he _smirked_ , goddamn it. Lucifer clutched at the lapels of his blazer, shaking him. MacLeod’s head smacked into the wall behind him, and his smirk vanished.

“What the fuck was that for?” the boy spat.

“Next time, keep your bastard Scottish mouth shut,” Lucifer said- and his own angry wasn’t MacLeod’s quick words, the fire behind them a mere suggestion. He didn’t have anger- not really. Just fury. Wrath.

“This is about me being Scottish, is it?”

“Shut up, MacLeod. You know what this is about.”

MacLeod’s mouth twisted into something of a scowl. Lucifer kept his grip on the blazer tight, waiting for him to try and hit him. He might succeed, but not without Lucifer getting him back twice as bad.

“You might want to watch out, Milton,” was all he said. His expression was a riddle, and Lucifer couldn’t be bothered trying to figure it out.

“Whatever,” he said, releasing him. He realised MacLeod’s hands had been held up in surrender, and wondered exactly what the fucker thought he was going to do. He checked his watch briefly as he headed towards the exit again. Dr Lynch’s detention-giving and his own putting of MacLeod back in his place had eaten seven minutes of his precious twenty. He didn’t run- not quite anyway- but he walked noticeably faster than normal past the wannabe soccer players and towards the tree. He practically threw his bag down, flopping onto the grass and trying to calm down before he even thought of glancing towards Michael. He shrugged his blazer off and rolled his sweater sleeves off, wanting to tug off the stupid thing- but alas, school rules dictated that was only allowed during the summer.

“You alright?” Zack asked after a pause. He took in a deep breath of air, closing his eyes.

“I’m fine. Just- Dr Lynch.”

“What about him?” This came from Balthazar. From the sound of his voice, not having to meet Lucifer’s eyes made him bolder.

“He gave me a detention.”

“For what?”

Lucifer wanted to laugh. Balthazar sounded genuinely _surprised,_ as though detentions were a rarity for Lucifer. He supposed he couldn’t blame him, though- pretty much all of the group had spotless school records and glowing reports sent home each term. Castiel had actually thought parents only grounded kids in movies- and Balthazar, with his occasional wine drinking and sticky fingers (every school had one, after all), was by far the most rebellious one. Before Lucifer had come along, of course.

“I- nothing. Fucking nothing. He said I have five minutes to get my lunch, or he’ll give me more- I’m going to have to sprint to the canteen. And MacLeod was just standing there, listening the whole time and smirking like an idiot.”

“MacLeod?”

Lucifer almost jumped. He opened his eyes, glancing to where the voice had come from. He knew it, of course- the few phrases he’d heard Michael say were repeated in his mind on a loop, trying to lock in into his memory. He’d never heard him say his name. That word he was still waiting on.

Michael had sat up at some point, and he was looking at Lucifer with full intensity. Lucifer felt a little light-headed.

“Yeah,” he said, and was both surprised and relieved to hear his voice wasn’t shaking, or stuttering, or something else embarrassing. “MacLeod. Why?” His mouth dried suddenly. What if Michael had a crush on MacLeod (somehow)? What if Lucifer found out Michael wasn’t straight from a comment about _MacLeod?_ He might have to request acid to burn his ears off from Dr Lynch later.

“Nothing,” Michael said, eyes looking back down to the grass. Lucifer felt slightly disappointed, glancing away to let Michael lie back down in peace, and to let his heart stop its loud thumping in his chest.

“At least- I think it’s nothing.”

He looked back at him. Surely, _surely_ Michael had some faint clue about how he looked when he stared at someone. There was no way someone wasn’t aware of such a power. Lucifer felt blood rise to his cheeks, but he didn’t look away.

“Why?” Lucifer said. He could feel the other ten pairs of eyes in the group on him, too. They didn’t matter too much to him. “What is it?”

Michael opened his mouth- and were his lips always that color? Were they always that full? - but he said nothing, shaking his head instead.

“Probably nothing,” he said, glancing away before looking back. “I’ll- it’s fine.” He kept his eyes on Lucifer’s for a few moments more before laying back down on the grass, closing his eyes quickly.

He definitely didn’t feel disappointed now.

Conversation picked up uncertainly- something about a party in the town- but Lucifer paid no attention. He looked down at the grass, wondering if it was normal for him to feel slightly dizzy after exchanging a few words with Michael. He didn’t react when the bell rang, having a ‘study period.’ The rest of them- except Balthazar- stood, shouldering their bags.

“What do you have next?” Balthazar asked him, as though he hadn’t memorised his timetable to try and plan routes through the school that would maximise the chances of bumping into him in the corridors.

“Study,” Lucifer said. He normally used study periods for a nap, but he pulled his chemistry textbook from his bag instead.

“You’re actually working?” Balthazar asked with something of a grin.

“Someone’s got to,” Lucifer replied. It didn’t make much sense out loud, but it matched his light-and-friendly tone.

“Good luck with it,” Balthazar said. He lingered, clearly considering ditching his next lesson to sit outside with Lucifer. Lucifer wasn’t a hundred percent certain if that would bother him- it would be nice to have a distraction from chemistry, after all. And Balthazar, with his light conversation, was a distraction.

“Balthazar!” Michael called, clearly annoyed.

“What?” Balthazar called back. Lucifer glanced up to where Michael stood, his arms folded.

“English. Come on.”

“I don’t know whether I’m going to-”

“You are. Come on.”

Balthazar let out a sigh, giving Lucifer a wave of his fingers before leaving. Lucifer went to give Michael a wave, but he turned before he had the chance, marching towards the main building at such a pace that Balthazar had to jog to catch up with him.

He looked down at his textbook, flipping through until he reached the lesson’s content. He took out his notebook, rewriting the date and title. He began to make notes.

About halfway through his study period, he concluded that Dr Lynch spent a good portion of the lesson rambling, as his notes were done. He slammed his notebook closed triumphantly, stuffing it back into his bag.

Almost without thinking about it, he crawled over to Michael’s usual spot, bringing his blazer with him. He lay down in it, the blazer covering him like an ugly grey blanket, and closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his face. He let his mind drift to Michael- strictly PG thoughts- he was lying in a public space, after all. He let himself slip into a half-sleeping state, thinking of his eyes and letting himself fall into them. It wasn’t until someone stood over him, casting him in a shadow, that he opened his eyes- and was met with the real version of Michael’s.

“That’s my spot,” he said. He looked faintly amused. Lucifer wondered if someone had given him a shot or something- he looked more relaxed than he’d ever been.

“Where’s Balthazar?”

He looked even more amused. Lucifer sat up. Michael, to his annoyance, didn’t sit down.

“Canteen. He was in quite a hurry to get there, actually. Think he thought you’d be there, too.” Michael’s lips twitched. He knew, Lucifer realised- he knew that Balthazar had something of a crush on him. And if he knew that, then that meant he’d been paying attention to him. Lucifer felt dizzy.

“Why would I be in the canteen?” Lucifer asked. Then he remembered.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said, gathering up his bag and pulling on his blazer, standing.

“It’s three minutes into lunch, by the way,” Michael told him as he pushed his textbook into his bag.

“Fuck,” Lucifer said, pulling at the buckles on his bag desperately. “I’m not going to have time, am I?”

“Definitely not,” Michael said casually, watching him struggle with his bag. _Prick,_ Lucifer thought fondly.

“Fuck,” Lucifer repeated. He didn’t realise Michael was in his own bag until he slipped a bag of chips into his blazer pocket. Lucifer paused, dropping his struggle with the buckle and pulling them out.

“They’re for eating,” Michael explained as though he was a toddler.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Michael gave him a small shove. “Now get to your detention, you rebel.”

It took Lucifer a second to register it all- the shove, the name, the fact they were talking, and without an audience at that. The small smirk on Michael’s face. The way a piece of his hair had fallen out of his careful gelled hold, touching his forehead. Lucifer stared, and then gave a nod. Then he set off in a run.

“Will do!” he called over his shoulder, knowing he would have probably fallen over if he’d stayed for a second more. He didn’t even notice the group that watched him as he passed, MacLeod among them, his dark eyes narrowed on him. All he knew was that he could finally cross off the first word on his list.


End file.
